


Lilies

by blanketed_in_stars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Castiel, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars





	Lilies

For a guy who spends so much time in cemeteries, Dean feels surprisingly out of his element. Of course, he thinks, he’s usually digging up graves and burning bodies, not mourning.

They haven’t been to Lawrence in a long time. Years. It only seemed natural to swing by when they were in the area—and a visit twice a decade isn’t too hard. Should be easier this time, anyways. No hauntings (that they know of), no ghosts.

Well, Dean corrects himself, no real ones. He thinks he can almost feel someone else there as he stands looking down at the tombstone. _Mary Winchester, 1954-1983_.

Sam brushes past him, heading out. There are no tears on either of their faces. What’s going on in Sam’s head, he can’t say, but although Dean is definitely emotional, it doesn’t seem deep enough somehow. Should he be worried about that? It’s not like he’s never cried over his mother before. There were times when just the thought of her would get him all choked up. But now… nothing.

His uncertainty is interrupted as he looks around, still feeling the presence of another person—and spots Cas, standing stiffly several yards behind him, looking distinctly anxious.

“Hey.” His voice rasps slightly. “Well, don’t just stand there.”

Cas picks his way between the tombstones until he’s shifting from foot to foot beside Dean. “Your mother was a wonderful woman,” he says.

“Yeah.” God, how inadequate. “She was pretty great.” Even worse. Still, what do you say?

There’s a long silence, and then Cas pulls a bouquet out of his jacket. White flowers.

“Lilies?”

Cas nods. “Stargazers. For the restored innocence of departed souls.”

It sounds so much like a textbook, Dean has to smile. Unexpectedly, his lips tremble, and he feels his throat close up. “I,” he says, and has to swallow. “That means a lot, Cas.”

“Do you want—?”

Dean nods and takes the bouquet. He lays it carefully against the cold marble and can’t resist touching his fingers to the ground before he straightens up. Clearing his throat, he asks, “How did you know my mom, anyways?”

If Cas hears the catch in his voice, he ignores it. “As you know, she and your father were destined to be together. I often watched her, making sure that no harm came to her before her time.” As if he can read Dean’s thoughts, he adds, “She never knew.”

“Oh.” Almost a minute passes before Dean can swallow hard enough to say, “Thanks for that.”

Dean hears Cas inhale, but he says nothing. Then a hand, hesitant, soft, comes to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean…”

“What?” He turns and finds that his vision has gone blurry. Cas is nothing more than a smudge in a sea of green and gray.

“She loved you very much.”

It’s the way he says it, so gently, that clues Dean in, so he’s only a little bit surprised when Cas pulls him into a tight embrace. He feels his face contort, buried in the folds of the trench coat, as he fights back tears. A few escape despite his efforts. When he pulls away, there are small damp dots on the pale fabric.

He clears his throat again, smiles as well as he can. He feels he should say something, but he doesn’t know what, and besides, Cas probably gets the message anyway. “Let’s go,” he says instead, and they leave the cemetery together.


End file.
